Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)(97)

“I can get your locations in less time than it would take you to arrange that.”

She hesitated. “We have permission. Go ahead. I’m still getting EDD in. They can do what they do, and I can work my way back to Central via the morgue. They’re having a two-for-one sale.”

“Sick,” he commented.

“Yeah, but it helps keep me from being sick. If you’ll get the locations—and keep the work right down the line, no blurs, I’m going to get the go-ahead to check out the vic’s other spaces. You never know.”

She found nothing in Adrianne’s private spaces that applied, but she verified through the files that both Dudley and Moriarity had used her services in the past. With Wallace’s permission, she used the vic’s office ’link to notify next of kin.

When she was done, Roarke leaned over the chair to kiss the top of her head. “Devastating for them. Painful for you.”

“I can’t think about it now.” Couldn’t let herself feel it, not now. “He used a remote, likely a disposable ’link, you say, both times. To set up and to close.”

“The same device, both times,” Roarke confirmed. “As were the e-mails. We have various locations. I’ve listed them for you.”

“I’ve got to go finish putting this together. You saved me some time, so I won’t be punching you.”

“My face is relieved, yet strangely disappointed.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

“Neither do I, as when I’ve cleared up some business I need to clear up, I’ll be coming down to Central to see if I can be of use to Feeney.”

“I’d tell you Feeney can handle things, but with nine dead, I’m not turning down any help. No point, is there, in telling you not to buy a bunch of food for a bunch of cops?”

He sent her a cheerful grin. “None at all if I’m hungry.”

When they were out on the street, he cupped her face in his hands. “No point telling you to catch an hour’s sleep, even if it’s on the floor of your office.”

“Probably not today.” Her ’link signaled. “Hold on. Dallas.”

“Tell me you love me.”

“I can’t. My husband’s standing right here. He might get suspicious.”

“He’ll understand,” Peabody claimed, “when you both hear what I found. Guess whose mommy had a scorching affair with a dead French chef before he was dead. Like twenty-five years ago.”

“Delaflote boned Dudley’s mother?”

“That’s the word, mostly in French. It was a BFD in Europe back then. The vic was younger, and she was still married to the father. She left him—the husband—and set up house with Delaflote. Didn’t last more than about six months, but it broke the marriage, and, according to the gossip back in the day, caused serious embarrassment for the Dudley family.”

“That’s worth a ‘very fond of.’ ”

“Aww, I’m all about the love.”

“Find me a connection between Adrianne Jonas and Moriarity, more than he was an occasional client, then we’ll talk love. Status with the shoe?”

“I’ve been buried in illicit affairs, fashion, marital high jinks, and celebrity scandals. I’ll check.”

“I’m heading to the morgue. When I’m done, I’ll be in. Polish it up, Peabody.”

“I think it’s starting to shine. I really do.”

Eve clicked off. “I have to go.”

“What about the shoe?” he demanded as she jumped in her car.

“The bastard was wearing the same shoes we caught on security when I interviewed him this morning. Cookie crumbs.”

He watched her go, and decided he’d pick up a few dozen cookies before he met her at Central.

Peabody tagged her back as she strode down the white tunnel of the morgue. “I’m still at ‘very fond,’ ” Eve said.

“You may be ready for ‘sweet on,’ at least. Unofficially, McNab says if it’s not the same damn shoe, he’ll eat it with barbecue sauce.”

“He’ll eat anything with barbecue sauce. I need official.”

“Feeney just confirmed, officially, that the shoe Dudley was wearing this morning is the same size, the same make, the same color as the shoe on the amusement park security.”

“Close but not sweet enough.”

“He can’t state unequivocally it’s the same shoe. He can give that an eighty-eight-point-seven probability.”

“I want ninety plus. See if he can enhance the images any more, or squeak that out. Ninety’s better than eighty-eight.”

“I’ll relay.”

Eve stuck the ’link in her pocket, and pushed through the autopsy suite’s doors.

Morris looked up from his work. “Well, Dallas, we’re having a hell of a summer.”

“It’s going to be hell for two smug bastards before it’s done.”

“Before we get into this, I want to thank you for arranging this gathering tomorrow.”

“Oh. I think—”

“I find myself pulling back, too often, from friends. It’s easier, and more self-indulgent, to be alone. I need a nudge out of that cycle from time to time.”